


Have A New Life

by ThatSoChangeableChick



Series: DC Drabble [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble, Gen, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSoChangeableChick/pseuds/ThatSoChangeableChick
Summary: Jason planted a bomb beneath the Batmobile, except it never went off. From then on, he had a change of heart. * Set During Red Hood: Lost Days*





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's to the first drabble in a line of many!

That night Jason could've flipped the switch, pulled the trigger, ended it all. He hadn't – whether it was cowardice or a fairer intention he didn't know, only thing Jason did know was that it was over.

For certain plots and schemes circled in his head, dragging their heels but brimming with possibilities, except they lacked, didn't strike a motivation or will to carry forth. He was lost in soul, in the streets of home, which definitely fucking figured.

Bruce always indicated he'd been hot-headed, had to learn to temper the engulfing rage, had to look past emotional vengeance to the case, the operation, the mission, so that no mistakes would be made. Here he was finally listening just because it wasn't worth making his life a nightmarish parallel to Batman's.

Batman wasn't worth it. His blistering hatred was wasted, for what? He doesn't believe B cared, not about Jason, not enough except the first Robin replacement off the rack, and it sounded pitiful but it was the truth. He couldn't delude himself, he'd be no better than the wackos' B fought.

His heart had hollowed, acknowledged the shattered particles left and tried to assemble them into a fractured whole. It wouldn't work and what did it matter if Jason vanished? B was absent, a separate entity and Jason shouldn't rely on anything the Bat did.

It left him…with what? An undetonated bomb, a skin-tight suit, a woman who loved that who'd abandoned him, and this – the acknowledgement that this is what remained. This emptiness, a will to be nothing and do nothing, a will to pull a trigger and curl into a ball.

Rain splatters and soaks, soon a thunderous applause of droplets attack and it's in the symphony that a gasped grunt becomes heard. He considered if to leave his alcove, a second and third smack flickered and curiousness wins out. His footfalls squelch, smothered in water and his mask dangling from a fist and there's a kid getting beaten up not ten feet to the left.

Except this kid is Robin and Jason doesn't move, oddly fascinated as the small body convulses and grunts. There's only three goons, their pals already struck down, an unlucky hit had taken the kid down and a broken grabble gun. He wonders if that means the Bat will be by, or if he'd just get another Robin off the replacement rack.

It can't be the end for this kid, three two-bit thugs don't take out Robin. More of a disappointment than the former, that'd be difficult. From here there are two options, watch another maybe dead bird be or walk onward, move on.

If he moves on, to where? To Talia? The streets, again? Without a purpose, he'll wither, die out faster than a flame in a snow storm, might as well stick a bullet in his brain.

His feet squelch, fast on their own accord, launched and rebelled on the shoulders of one, spun and kicked out at another, flipped around and ducked, repelled upwards with two jabbed fingers to the final, and it's done.

Over, as it'd begun.

He huffed a steam, the kid joltingly unhunched and the warm street light enveloped his blues. The kid breathed, "Thank you…" his brows furrowed as light blinded him. The kid skimmed his backpack closer, stuffed a geography book back inside and staggered onto his feet.

Former injuries burned by the new and it was a feeling Jason had once known too well. He deftly picked the worn, semi-bashed grabble gun from the pavement. Probably just a lucky find by the two-bit thugs.

Was Bruce becoming careless or was it intentional, spurn disastrous action to keep his operation alight. It felt familiar in his hands, the handle modeled for a smaller hand but it seemed that newbie's fatal mistake allowed him to live.

Figures.

His replacement caught the grabble gun tossed at him. "You should be more careful with that," Jason murmured. Turned his head into the light, a new route to calculate, to utilize, to locate.

He wouldn't go back to the old. New life and purpose lay ahead of him. It wasn't fixed or even a bright motivation for this path, it was the determination to find motivation. He'd complete goal upon goal, soon to be strung into a concession of purposes.

There was new to be found. Himself, Batman and Robin, the streets, all lacked. Only Talia remained new, untapped for possibilities and he wasn't a fool. His best chance of survival was with the demon's daughter, if she'd have him.

"I mean it," the pretender not in costume called, "Thank you! Hey, what do I call you?" he played it interested, grateful civilian. His hair unkempt, face blistered and bruised, and yet, still he walked without trouble, unbothered in the face of pain for the curious intellect twinkled there.

He almost laughed, face still hidden in harsh light and didn't bother to answer. He'd vanished from one launch to the next, a plan to speak with Talia already set into motion.

Jason wouldn't remain buried, this wasn't Bruce's Wayne's world. This was Jason's and it'd become whatever he needed from it.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what you like if you won't tell me ~*~*


End file.
